One Autumn with Darcy

by Rose Fairbanks

  “I would like that. You must call on us at Pemberley.”

  “Indeed, I had planned on it. I only just arrived today to finalise matters.”

  “Then...we will look forward to your visit.”

  He held her eyes for a long moment before reaching for her gloved hand and raising it to his lips. “Good day, Miss Bennet.”

  After gathering her wits, she managed to nearly complete her small shopping list, forgetting only three of the four items she wished to buy and only one item bought by mistake being the most hideous colour of yellow. Upon arriving at Pemberley she eagerly sought out Elizabeth and explained it all. For two agonizing days, the ladies awaited Mr. Burton’s call. When at last he arrived, Mr. Darcy showed him into the drawing room. The two seemed friendlier than Jane would expect upon a first meeting.

  One by one Elizabeth managed to find some reason to have each person leave the room. At last Jane and Mr. Burton were alone. If she were not so nervous, she would have laughed at her sister’s tactics, which were so reminiscent of her mother’s.

  “When did you say you mean to have your house fully set up?” she asked.

  He smiled at her question. “In about a fortnight, however, it is not the done thing for a bachelor to host ladies. I dearly wished to plan another riding outing.”

  “Do you have no relative that might serve as mistress?”

  “I know only one lady who will do.” He had walked closer to her, and she was finding it hard to breathe. “You know I married without love years ago. When I resolved to move forward with my life, I also resolved to not remarry unless it was for a deep and constant love. I was intrigued by the young lady I knew many years ago, but the lady I currently know has so much more strength of character. I know you have grieved over love before, and I know we have had an interrupted courtship. I do not wish to leave things unsaid again. Might there be space for me in your heart?”

  She took a steadying breath. “Indeed, you have my whole heart, sir.”

  They married on midsummer’s day. The bride’s gown complimented her eyes perfectly, as did the arrangements of forget-me-nots. Poetry better left unread by those of discerning taste was whispered in her ear.

  There was no bridal tour as Burton was needed on business in Jamaica, the very reason he journeyed to London from Netherfield near Easter. Having had the love of her life absent more often than present, Jane refused to stay behind. Arguments for her safety were spurned. If they would die then at least, she would have her husband for what time remained to them. So it was in early July the new Mr. and Mrs. Burton and their four-year-old daughter left England.

  *****

  A welcome breeze greeted the small family as they at last set foot on land again in early September. Their voyage had been as pleasant as such things could be expected to be on a vessel not made for passengers. The Atlantic was safe from conflicts with the Americans in the summer of ‘13 and as the Royal Navy enforced a strict convoy system with their merchant vessels they were saved the fear of being caught unawares by privateers. Hearing that the Americans were focusing on antagonizing British shipping off the coast of Chile allowed them time to complete their business.

  After settling in their new house, Jane and Burton went out to meet with the silent business partner in his new venture.

  “It is so beautiful and exotic here, but is it true the slaves suffer so much?” Jane asked her husband.

  “Yes, and although Parliament has tried to implement provisions to lessen their burdens, the House of Assembly here resists.”

  “Are they very evil? I cannot imagine whipping and flogging a person.”

  “It is nothing more than fear that motivates them, dearest. The plantation owners are greatly outnumbered, and they worry if they are kinder then there will be revolts.”

  “Their money is so important to them?”

  “I am sure it is, but perhaps some fear is justified. Not every revolt was as nice as the Americans’. The French people went through much less at the hands of their aristocracy, and we know how many of them lost their heads after the revolution.”

  “All the more reason to treat them kindly, or amend the system while they can.”

  “Very true, dearest. I do not know why you ever thought you were not intelligent.”

  Jane blushed. The only other person she knew who credited her with much sense was Elizabeth. Now away from the watchful eye of her mother she felt more at leave to read and her compassionate heart could not help but be touched by the lives of the slaves she read about in her husband’s political tracts. Him bringing her along was a measure of how much he trusted her ability.

  “What did you say the gentleman’s name was?” she asked.

  “It was not disclosed. This was to be very secret until the meeting. I only know that the others of the board found his recommendation very satisfactory. An elderly Irish baron, among others.”

  “Well, one hundred thousand pounds toward the publishing campaign would be worth the secrecy.”

  “Indeed.”

  Their carriage pulled up to a home very like the one they had rented and very shortly they were shown into the library.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Isaiah Burton,” the housekeeper announced.

  A gentleman and young lady had their heads bent over the desk and looked up.

  Two of the four immediately gasped, paled and blushed while the others looked at them in confusion.

  “Come, sit, my dear,” Burton said to Jane. “Pardon my manners, I fear my wife is unwell.”

  “I am well, only surprised. Nay, very astonished,” Jane managed at last to explain.

  “Yes, please do be seated,” Charles Bingley said in a voice full of emotion.

  “Tea will be coming presently. May I offer you some other refreshment, Mrs. Burton?” the red-headed young lady with him asked.

  “Thank you, no…” Jane replied.

  “Forgive me. It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. and…” he paused and looked strangely at Jane, “Mrs. Burton. I thank you for your forbearance in the secrecy of my name until now. I am Charles Bingley, and this is Miss Eileen Trench, niece of the Baron of Althone.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Burton and Miss Trench intoned simultaneously as Jane and Bingley stared at each other.

  “Mr. Bingley, it would seem your presence rather than your identity was the shock to my wife,” Burton said with some amount of distaste.

  Bingley opened his mouth to speak, but Jane interrupted. “Mr. Bingley and I are acquainted. We met nearly two years ago when he leased Netherfield, in fact. It has been over a year since he was reported as likely dead.”

  “Dead!” the other three shouted in surprise.

  “The only news your sisters or friend received of you in the last year, Mr. Bingley, was that your ship had been reported among those in conflict with the Americans. There were a number of losses reported.”

  Bingley closed his eyes at her words. “The journey was not an easy one. We did meet with the Americans. There was also an illness aboard and one particularly dreadful storm. It is not heroic at all for me to say that the most danger my life came into was slipping during the storm and spraining my ankle.”

  Jane stared at him in near disbelief.

  Miss Trench must have sensed the tension. “I suspect the war has interrupted the mail. As the Americans have only just left for the Pacific, we are told, I think perhaps your latest mail may have reached England safely, Mr. Bingley.”

  Bingley looked intensely at Jane. “I did write; I have been writing, weekly. My penmanship is poor, and I have had to keep my interests here a secret, but I did write my family and Darcy. I hate to think how they have worried for me.”

  At Jane’s silence, Miss Trench inferred the rest. “They do not worry; they mourn.”

  “Good God! Is it really true?”

  “I am afraid so, sir. Nothing official was declared, but we were all quite convinced.”

  An uneasy silence pervaded the room. At last Miss Tr
ench spoke again. “I am certain Mrs. Burton could tell you about your family.”

  “Oh, yes,” Jane cried. “Mr. and Mrs. Hurst do well. They spend more time at his father’s estate. Caroline married last summer to a Mr. Thacker, eldest son of Sir Joseph Thacker of Morris Hill You are expected to be an uncle by now.”

  “My word. And your family? Are they well?”

  “Mary is betrothed to my uncle’s clerk. Kitty and Lydia are still unmarried. Elizabeth wed Darcy last summer, as you know they planned.”

  “And you are happily married to Mr. Burton!” he said perhaps too cheerfully.

  “Blissfully happy,” Burton said and Jane sighed. His behaviour was reminiscent of when he felt threatened by Lord Arlington. It was clear to her he knew Bingley’s name well from the gossip of Meryton.

  “Mr. Burton’s sister and brother-in-law leased Netherfield when yours expired,” she provided.

  “But my wife and I were first acquainted years ago,” Burton added.

  “We were,” she gave him a smile. “So it was a pleasure to renew the acquaintance. However, as he was only visiting Hertfordshire and frequently had business to attend to, it was some time before we reached an understanding. We only married in late June, actually.”

  “My congratulations!” Miss Trench said excitedly.

  “Oh, yes. Congratulations,” Bingley said, perhaps in a more subdued tone.

  “Thank you,” Jane and Burton replied.

  “And you have been very busy with business here?” Jane asked.

  “Oh, yes. I arrived to consider sugar exports but upon seeing the conditions of the slaves and meeting with the Trenches, I scratched the whole idea. Miss Trench’s brothers have convinced me to consider funding a new publishing endeavour. Naturally if the local owners knew of our scheme, we would be much disliked.”

  “You may catch more flies with honey than vinegar,” Miss Trench added.

  “May I assume by your presence, Miss Trench, that are you are integral to the order of the business?” Mr. Burton asked, and Jane was relieved they at last turned the conversation to business.

  “Do not allow her to hide behind her brothers. It was her idea entirely,” Bingley explained.

  “Hush, you will embarrass me,” she softly chided.

  “Can I not praise my future bride?” he asked as he gazed lovingly at her.

  Jane smiled. Indeed, she felt like laughing. Perhaps other ladies would be jealous as their former love bestowed attention on another before them. Other ladies would at least be regretful, but Jane now felt nothing but happiness. Since seeing Bingley, she first felt relief for his family’s sake and then concern for his own heart as he was acting so peculiarly. She spared no thought to her own feelings; she knew them well. Her love for Bingley was nothing more than a candle in the darkness compared to the radiance of the sun she found in the love of her husband. Now, at last she could have true happiness.

  *****

  August 1, 1838

  Charles Bingley smiled at the guests in his old friend Darcy’s dining room. Four and twenty years had passed since he set foot in England a changed man, one determined to end the slavery he witnessed in Jamaica. As of today, the first of August 1838, all slaves in the British West Indies were now free.

  He looked to his friends and brothers in arms for the cause. Their dispositions were each as different as a well ordered garden, but each had been invaluable in his life. Darcy, of course, eagerly threw in his money and influence upon his return. Bingley never doubted his friend would, and in fact he had an acquaintance with Burton for several years. Elizabeth had eased Darcy’s spirits some and was a charming but no-nonsense lady advocating the cause and raising five children.

  He looked next to his wife’s eldest brother. When they met, he was the young heir to an impoverished barony. His eccentric uncle freed all the slaves on their sugar plantation, effectively bankrupting the family, but they were zealous in their beliefs. Frederick Trench was very much like himself, amiable to all. Bingley could not help but like the man then hoping for a position as a Member of Parliament. Now, in part thanks to Bingley’s own fortune, the family had modest wealth and the newest Baron of Althone still served as an MP; as an Irish baron he could not serve in the House of Lords. He had also married Georgiana Darcy when she was twenty and he six and twenty and new to the House.

  Bingley next glanced to Darcy’s cousin, Lord Matlock, as his new title was. A quarter of a century ago he was only the heir. The Viscount then was a rising Whig MP and eager to lend his support. Shortly before the Bingleys and the Burtons returned to England Viscount Arlington surprised his family completely with a marriage to his cousin Anne, who had long claimed no desire to marry. As Lady Catherine became more retiring with age, her daughter’s health improved. Anne soon proved she had her mother’s spirit and was not to be trifled with. The newest Lady Matlock was as formidable as her predecessor. If her husband regretted the loss of his first choice, he soon found comfort in his assumption of Jane’s own objection. An affection based on a much longer acquaintance with strong familial ties suited his temperament and needs in life better. What began as a mild fondness had grown into a fervent love.

  Their goal was simple. Bingley and some other investors, including some with titles, would financially back a press which would publish about Parliamentary debates on slavery along with any interest story which could gain public support. Within ten years, they formed a true society with the support of political giants like William Wilberforce and Thomas Clarkson. In another ten years legislation passed to abolish slavery in measures, culminating in final emancipation on this day—two years ahead of the intended date.

  The six and twenty years that had passed since he left England for distant shores had been spent raising awareness and funds necessary to compensate slave owners. He left England in bitterness of spirit. He felt his heart lost to a lady he at first was uncertain he loved and then later decided was unsuitable. By the time, he saw clearly that she was at least worth the risk to his standing in society, as shown by Darcy’s marriage to her sister, he believed all hope was at an end. The very evening Darcy had spoken with Bingley about calling on Jane and Elizabeth, Bingley was brokenhearted to see Jane speaking with another gentleman at the theatre. Any remnants of hope that Jane had ever loved him disintegrated. He had left her months before and believed whatever pain lingered in his own heart was better left hoping it would extinguish rather than risk inflaming it by meeting her again. He set out for a business venture before Darcy’s wedding precisely so he would not see Jane Bennet again.

  Now, he looked to her. She was, as her husband declared years ago, blissfully happy, a doting mother of four who spent her life supporting her husband, although he remained in trade and Mrs. Bennet could never quite approve. Her eldest daughter, from her husband’s first marriage, had married a few years ago and was gratefully giving Jane grandchildren. Now, Jane’s younger daughter was betrothed to Bingley’s eldest son. Soon, they would all be family in the way they were always meant to be.

  He looked lastly to his wife. These two women made him. Jane was brave enough to give him up, but Eileen was determined enough to fight for him when he arrived in Jamaica with a bruised body and battered heart. She made him a better man and, if not for her, his life would have been little worth living. Eileen showed him there was more to live and die for. That others suffered worse than he. She showed him he could make decisions for himself, that he ought not to shy away from a confrontation and that he should not leave matters undone, for in the course of six and twenty years it was exceedingly tempting to cast off his lofty visions and allow younger and seemingly abler men finish this all-important task.

  “Speech! Speech!” the crowd cried, and the gentlemen deferred to him.

  He stood, with not a wine glass in hand, but a tea cup. “I thank you all, the friends young and old who helped in this worthy endeavour. You saw beyond the shallow fickleness of our lives of luxury. You looked beyond selfishness
and saw suffering. And while even I was tempted to paint everything in the best light, there comes a time when all mankind must stand for truth and righteousness. And now…” he took a sip, “I very much look forward to enjoying my first taste of sugar in over twenty years, and it harvested from entirely paid labour. My solicitor will bemoan my pocketbook and my wife will bemoan my health, but I will drink it in delight and know the dignity our friends and equals in the Indies now have in earning wages for their work.”

  He sipped again, and an applause broke out. He held up his hand. “But there is more work to do yet, my friends. Let us not leave our business undone. Tonight we celebrate and tomorrow we work.”

  The group murmured their agreement and smiled in return. As he sat, he wondered what next would become the business of his life.

  The End

  Mr. Darcy’s Kindness

  A Pride and Prejudice Novella Variation

  Rose Fairbanks

  Mr. Darcy’s Kindness

  Published by Rose Fairbanks

  ©2016 Rose Fairbanks

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, without permission in writing from its publisher and author.

  Several passages in this novel are paraphrased from the works of Jane Austen.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to characters, whether living or dead, is not the intention of this author.

  Prologue

  November 25, 1814

  Rosings, Kent

  Hearing the baby cry, Darcy rolled over and sat. Elizabeth disliked relying on the nurse but the infant was teething. Sometimes there was nothing anyone could do to relieve the pain or make the babe happy. Elizabeth was exhausted, and Darcy wanted to allow her to rest. Shuffling in the dark to open the connecting door from the mistress’ chamber to the small nursery, Darcy was surprised to hear Elizabeth already walking around with the baby, humming a tune.